


Arrangement

by gallifreyanlibertea



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Sugar Daddy, nsfw mention, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 05:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyanlibertea/pseuds/gallifreyanlibertea
Summary: Most of Arthur's relationships so far have been arrangements, so he expects his lovers to stay as long as he pays the price. And he'd do anything to make them stay.





	1. Chapter 1

“Arthur, I have to work.”

The look on Alfred’s face told him otherwise. Those full lips quirked up in a boyish smile, hand making no move to lift off Arthur’s thigh. It told Arthur it was okay to ignore the dialogue and continue carding through Alfred’s damp hair, pushing it away from his face as baby blue eyes watched his every move.

“Okay, leave.” Arthur threw his leg over Alfred’s waist, nuzzling into that warm, tanned expanse of a chest, pulling the covers up over their shoulders as Alfred took to sighing as a response. 

“I really do, you know?” 

“Has no one told you it’s bad manners to leave so quickly after making love?”

Alfred propped his elbow up on the pillow, resting his head in the palm of his hand, “I’ve already been late two times, Artie.”

He was being cute. 

Arthur could always tell when Alfred was being cute. He would pout, he would cup Arthur’s face into his hands, he would laugh, even if Arthur’s jokes were often made at his expense. He did just as Arthur’s other lovers had done and would appeal to him- physically, emotionally, and Arthur always did the exact same thing in response.

He would reach into his wallet.

After all, it was how the relationship was built. Arthur, a neurosurgeon with boringly mediocre looks, with money in his hands he didn’t quite know how to spend on his own, and people like Alfred. People in need of money, who could easily be with anyone considerably more attractive than Arthur, but were willing to provide companionship to people like him, to those who couldn’t get it otherwise.

Or, as an old lover of his had ineloquently put it, he was a sugar daddy. 

Well, it was hardly a secret. Lovers came and went and Arthur got what he could out of it. He would watch as one ex told a friend, who told another friend, and whoever needed the cash, or wanted to be spoiled, would come running in Arthur’s direction.

Alfred was one such case. He was gorgeous and Arthur had the rent money he so desperately needed, so they went on a date. Arthur found him charming and Alfred had found him tolerable, so they went on another. Then another, then another, and here they were.

Two months later and Arthur knew everything there was to know about Alfred. Every title of every video game he’d ever craved, every brand he’d ever wanted to wear- and when he made those pouty faces, when he would hold Arthur like he really mattered, in a way that just for a second Arthur would forget their arrangement and lean into that warm embrace like there was even an ounce of love in their hollow relationship- he would know it was time to buy his lover another gift.

It was usually what they were asking for when they got sweet.

“I really do have to go, though, babe, my boss hates me already.”

“Just quit your job.” Was Arthur’s lazy response. He held back a whine as Alfred pulled away, slipping on his boxer briefs, his trousers, his shirt. Leaving.

He would be back, yes, but he would leave one day. Like Arthur was just a chapter in a book he happened to pass, like they always did. Arthur would find another, and the cycle would go on. 

And he supposed he would go with it.

Arthur slid out beside him, holding the bedsheets around his waist, “You don’t like it anyway.”

“Some of us have to pay rent,” Alfred said with a chuckle. There it was again. That brush of his hand against Arthur’s cheek, a fond kiss onto Arthur’s forehead. “Not all of us are surgeons.”

“You know I could just pay it for you.” Alfred raised his eyebrows at that, like he always did when Arthur offered him money.

Arthur found that Alfred liked to play hard to get. Something along those lines, he didn’t know quite what. Alfred wasn’t like the others, he wouldn’t outright say what he wanted, he wouldn’t demand payment after every date.

He was rather silent, actually. It put Arthur on edge.

That’s how they were before they realized they didn’t need Arthur anymore.

“Or, um, you could live here.”

Alfred blinked, “With you?”

Arthur sensed an indication of excitement. He could see it twinkling in those blue eyes. He found himself smiling, sweetening the pot, “Yes, I could build you a pool house if you like?”

Pool houses. People liked pool houses, yes? Close enough to the main house for Arthur’s emotional convenience, and far enough for Alfred to be on his own. Besides, Arthur’s job took most of the time. Alfred wouldn’t have to look at Arthur every second of the day. 

Yet however great the idea seemed in Arthur’s head, that spark was gone as soon as it came and Arthur’s stomach sank.

“The job’s not too bad, and I make enough money, it’s fine.”

Alfred had said it with a laugh but it could’ve full well been a slap to the face. He watched as Alfred walked to the door of their bedroom, hand poised on the knob to turn it. To leave.

And it shouldn’t have bothered Arthur. He’d learned not to get too attached, and besides, Alfred would come back. At least for today. He wasn’t the type of man to leave without a trace, and when the time came, Arthur would know for sure, and Alfred would be gone.

But like  _hell_  if Arthur didn’t make every last effort to keep him.

“Let me buy you something, love, you hardly tell me what you want.”

Alfred tapped his lip in an obviously sarcastic way, thinking, and Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“Alright, buy me dinner tonight.”

Ah. “Marvellous!” It was a foothold, some progress. Arthur’s mind ran at a hundred miles per hour. Which restaurant would they go to? Which one best highlighted the asset that Arthur was?

Which one screamed that yes, Arthur was rich, he was willing and he would give Alfred anything he could possibly want?

After all, Alfred was all the life he had. Besides work and an occasional book, all his time was spent on Alfred, and what he would like, what he would enjoy, what would make him stay- if only a day more. 

“There’s a new expensive Italian restaurant I think you’d like- with pizzas better than that fast food garbage- Oh! And, um, there’s that high-end French place I told you about, they serve the most  _divine_  truffle-”

And Alfred was gone, leaving Arthur rather confounded, speechless- Muttering in bed wondering as to how only  _God knew why the lad, who could have anything in the world, chose such garbage over cuisine._

If Alfred were still there, he would’ve laughed that loud boyish laugh of his, swooping Arthur into a bruising embrace,  _“You love me, Arthur.”_

So Arthur put on his clothes, ignoring the burning in his chest, and setting out, wallet in hand, for his lover’s newest obsession. A video game that Alfred had whined and whined about not having enough money to buy, and if that wasn’t a request enough, Arthur didn’t know what was.

Damn it all, he needed Alfred to stay.

No matter whatever it took, however much money he would have to spend to prove to Alfred that Arthur was a necessity, he would do it.

Alfred would stay, and Arthur would get to live a longer lie.

Which is why he found himself in a fast food restaurant that evening. It was hard to admit to himself that yes, the man sitting across from him, stuffing his face with such  _classless_ food, was the man Arthur had taken as a lover. The man who, oh  _god, he just dipped a fry into his milkshake-_

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ghosts are delightful, my dear, what I’m seeing is much worse.” Arthur snapped in response, fingers hovering above his own order of small fries. “Must you eat like someone’s life is at stake, all the time?”

“Must you dress like the Monopoly man all the time?” A crude mimicry of Arthur’s accent.

It was times like these, among others, that he forgot their arrangement. They were just a couple eating together for the sake of spending time, throwing meaningless banter when in reality, they were young and in love. Nothing else would matter, not the problems of the world, nothing.

It was a reality far from the one Arthur lived in.

“If you’re referring to my vest, I think it looks charming.”

“We’re at a McDonald’s, babe, not an auction.” Alfred offered a milkshake-soaked fry in Arthur’s direction, “Try some?”

“Oh god, Alfred.”

Alfred laughed. A loud, bubbly laugh that sent the butterflies in Arthur’s chest fluttering, pounding against his insides with a ferocity he’d feel every time he fell for one of them.

And when the silence fell, he took it up as an opportunity to reach into his coat pocket, pulling out the neatly wrapped gift he’d kept tucked away, “I brought you something.”

Alfred peered up at him from his position hunched over a burger. 

There it was, that expression Arthur drank up like a nectar. Those wide blue eyes, those lips parting in surprise, the look he’d have on his face every time Arthur gave him a gift.

The same one from when Arthur had handed him a cheque for a month’s rent, and for every small gift in between. The limited edition comic book, the unlimited lives on every single game on Alfred’s phone- oh, and yes, and Alfred’s phone, not to mention the second phone when the model updated.

And each and every time, Alfred did the same thing. Slowly, curiously, he accepted the box and plucked at the tape holding the wrapper together, “Babe, you shouldn’t have.”

The wrapper fell away and Alfred’s eyes widened further behind the lenses of his glasses, “Babe… you  _shouldn’t_  have!”

“You’ve wanted it for a while now, Alfred, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I-”

It was not unlike an animated show, where eyes would widen and sparkle at the sight of something. Alfred gaped, fingers smoothing over the disc box, eyes bouncing from its cover, and back to Arthur, then back to the cover.

“This is expensive.”

“Hardly anything, love.”

Money was always  _hardly something_  but it wasn’t anything Arthur couldn’t afford. With a salary like his, after all.

If he was going to win Alfred over, he would do it right.

“Do you like it?” It was a hopeful question. Arthur chewed his lip, watching anxiously as Alfred inspected the box. He narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, flipping the disc box over, and then back again, as if reading all the tiny script.

He then put it down. “Stop doing this.”

Oh. 

It was a cut to the jugular. It was a punch to the stomach, knocking every molecule of oxygen out of Arthur’s lungs. He tried so desperately to make it seem like it didn’t get to him, like he hadn’t just forgotten how to breathe. “I thought you wanted it, you-”

“I did want it, and I was saving up to get it.”

Perhaps it was wounded pride. Arthur didn’t understand- why go to great lengths to save money when you had someone at your beck and call, someone wrapped around your little finger, that would buy you anything and everything you had ever wanted?

Unless, that is, if Alfred was planning on leaving. He’d had enough of Arthur’s services to get him back on his feet, he was ready to sustain himself. Or perhaps it had gotten too painful to be in a relationship with a man like Arthur, even if it  _was_ just pretend. 

A man of sub-par looks, body, and personality. 

Arthur hid his trembling hands under the table. “I see.”

Alfred’s eyes were stone and Arthur had to look away, pretending it didn’t bother him, pretending that he would let it happen, like he’d let all the others, and that he would move on with not a chip to his resilience.

Alfred would move on, find someone worthy of his attention, and Arthur would spend money on a new lover.

“Arthur.” Those warm hands slid across the table, palms facing up invitingly, stony eyes softening back into the expression they usually were. “I’m sorry, I-” 

And Arthur gingerly placed his hands in Alfred’s, wincing as Alfred squeezed them almost reassuringly. An embrace before sending a knife through your stomach.

“I don’t need your money.”

The final blow.

Arthur was right. He would see it coming when Alfred finally decided to leave, and this was it. A nice, peaceful dinner, playful banter, kindness- 

Alfred was kind. This was the kindness. One last evening before the severance, and Arthur was grateful for it. 

Well, he could’ve done without some things.

Like the way Alfred brought Arthur’s hands up to kiss them, gorging Arthur on the love he’d been denied for most his life. As if he was choking Arthur, giving him everything and more, to sustain him until his next lover.

Arthur took his hands back. “Don’t make this harder than it is, Alfred.”

And then he smiled. A polite, professional smile. Arthur prided himself for it, it got comparatively less wobbly every time he’d done it. The final smile after the final gift, “Keep the game, I have no use for it.”

“… what?”

“If you have a general estimate of how much this cost, I could pay it here and leave you to enjoy the rest of your meal.”

Alfred furrowed his brows and Arthur explained further, “I’m paying for dinner, remember?”

“Arthur, are you leaving?”

What a silly question. It was Arthur’s turn to furrow his brows, mirroring Alfred’s confused expression. “You don’t need my money, lad, this arrangement is over.”

“Is that all I am to you? An arrangement?”

Alfred was looking at him and it was strange, bizarre. With those eyes all vulnerable, lips quirked down, cheeks flushed red- it was Arthur’s look. It was the look on his face when a lover left him, and he’d never seen it on anyone else, on the other side.

“That’s, well, um,  that’s why you agreed to be my lover in the first place, wasn’t it?”

A pause. Those hands came to cup Arthur’s face again and he ignored what was likely mayonnaise that had smeared across his cheek. “It’s been two months, Arthur, you honestly couldn’t have thought that all this time-”

“I’ve had longer arrangements.”

“Shut up. I’m  _not_  an arrangement.” Alfred leaned over the table with a frustrated growl, stealing a rather heavy kiss, and Arthur ignored the fact that it tasted like condiments. He ignored the fact that it was a dingy McDonald’s and that people were no doubt  _staring_ , because it didn’t matter. Alfred was kissing him.

It was a kiss outside an arrangement, a kiss that didn’t end in a diamond necklace, or some other expensive, materialistic intention. A  _kiss._

And when Alfred pulled away with a pop, Arthur just stared, gaping, open-mouthed. “I’ll get you something too, babe, when you least expect it.”

Arthur couldn’t breathe again and this time, he let the feeling grip him. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Alfred sank back into his seat with a mischievous smile, resuming his attack on his large fries. “Y’know-”

Arthur watched as a free hand came to grip his over the table, almost lazily. Like a reflex, like it was  _right._

“It’s been two months and you better be serious about asking me to live with you, my apartment is gross as fuck.” 

He offered Arthur a fry yet again, dripping with chocolate milkshake, and this time Arthur took it, finding that the unlikely combination wasn’t as bad as he’d expected.

Alfred squeezed Arthur’s hand again, punctuating his dialogue with a grin. “I’ll help you pay the bills.”


	2. Epilogue

Arthur can’t get used to the idea that love doesn’t come without a price. All his life he’s been told, he’s been made to believe, that he’s mediocre. So, the idea that Alfred loves him for something that _isn’t_ money- his salary is the only thing Arthur  _knows_  is real _-_ it puts him in a difficult place _,_ and Alfred knows this. 

Most of Arthur’s relationships were part of an arrangement, so it’s difficult to break free of the cycle. Arthur wakes up time to time in a cold sweat, arm reaching beside him in a panic, half expecting Alfred to be gone, but Alfred is always there. He always holds Arthur, kissing his tears away until Arthur falls back asleep in his arms. 

It takes Arthur a while to move away from the notion that love has to be a tangible thing, and Alfred doesn’t take offense from Arthur’s doubts and worries. He knows Arthur isn’t undermining Alfred’s love, but rather, trying to make sense of it, and Alfred does anything he can to make sure Arthur knows he’s in for the long run, that he’s never going to leave.

This ranges from little “I love you’s”, midnight reassurances, slow morning kisses, whispered affections while they made love…

And the ring Alfred finally proposes with, one that he’d saved up the money for by working double shifts and refraining from spending his paychecks on his beloved fast food cravings. 

Arthur can barely gasp out the word “yes” through the sobs, through his shivering body, his trembling lips, but Alfred holds him until he does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me if I'd write a second part to this. Even if I couldn't write a whole second chapter, I decided to still give the fic some closure.

**Author's Note:**

> "USUK in that order, sugar daddy Arthur who thinks he's just a sugar daddy and sugar baby Al who wants to be more, if requests are open"


End file.
